


Nightmares

by alan713ch



Series: Waiting for the Darkness [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Cameos from other fandoms, Derek is back, Gen, Magic, Nemeton, Nightmares, Witches, lots of guest stars, spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-07 15:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alan713ch/pseuds/alan713ch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The rest of the McCall pack rushes trying to save Scott, Allison and Stiles while the witches holding them prisoners rush trying to strip them from the guardianship of the Nemeton. Alex makes his move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Episode nine!
> 
> Sorry for the delay. Break, family, all that stuff. 
> 
> The chapters for this episode are shorter, but there are more, in order to keep a bit more of tension. 
> 
> As usual, it is recommended that you have read the previous works in this series since well, this is the climax of the season I've been telling so far. 
> 
> Tagged for violence, cause there is. A lot. Show levels.

If there was something Melinda Warren had learned to fear in her long life was the sound of a woman crying for her children lost. Needless to say, the fact that it was her own daughter who was crying over the body of Lorena pained her even more. 

"Sabrina..."

"Please, mother, we need to do something. We have to bring her back, she can't be dead, she's so young, please, mother, please..."

"Sabrina... this was the work of a Banshee. Those who had been murdered by The Wail can't come back, their soul meant to be lost forever."

"What...?"

"That is why the families that have a Banshee among their midst are so dangerous. Because the Banshee is a powerful creature, capable of bringing joy and sorrow to friends and enemies alike. When a Banshee decides to kill, not only is the body useless for magic, but the soul shall never reach peace." 

"And they did this to my daughter?"

"I'm afraid so." 

"Why? Why?"

"Because we attacked them. If I had known, I would have set our sight on the Banshee first, in breaking her bond to this pack or at least in preparing ourselves to defend against her." 

"I want her dead."

"We'll need to proceed for that my dear. Sadly, the only way a Banshee can be killed is by obliterating her whole family, or in this case I guess her whole pack. Curious, though, that the pack managed to snare the help of a Banshee, particularly such a young one. Anyways, that was already part of the plan so it will happen, I assure you." 

"What? Your own granddaughter has been murdered and you still intend to go with the plan? Who are you? My mother would've dropped everything to avenge a Warren - or do I need to remind you of the little show you did when they killed Mark?"

"No, dear. You don't. Those bastards who dared to burn my son alive paid and that girl will pay as well. But you need to understand: it's different. We are talking about destroying a Banshee. We need power for that." 

" _We need power for that._ You always say we need power. More power. More and more power. Like a black hole, always taking more and more. When is it gonna be enough, mother?"

"When nothing can stop us, my dear. When nothing can stop us." 

They had brought the body inside, and changed her into a white tunic. She was placed on top of a small altar they had built for her in the first floor, her body guarded by jasmines. Like that, under the glow of the chandelier, she looked like an angel that was resting. A girl that would soon wake up and brush her golden hair. 

But Melinda knew she was not coming back. 

They went downstairs, where the rest of the coven had gathered. The mongrel was in his cage, trembling from the cold he was suffering and scratching himself with his own claws. He would still growl at the movement and try to stop himself, which meant that there was still some of his spirit lingering inside. Good. He was to suffer even more for what that bitch had done to her family. The girl was completely lost, only muttering about the impossible problem she was trying to solve. She went to her and slapped her, but the girl didn't react when she fell onto the floor. Her father was glassy eyed and looking elsewhere. And in the other side of the room one of her warlocks was cradling the crystal where the soul of the boy was trapped, shining strong. She grabbed it and felt the power it contained - much more than anything she had expected. So not only was he the soul of the guardian, but apparently the conduit of the Nemeton as well - so they had to break him before they could access the power. 

It sparked. 

Power. Power she wanted. Power she needed. Power she will rip from these little children. 

"Brothers. Sisters. Gather round, gather round. Tonight we shall begin, tonight we shall knock the doors of the sanctuary and take the keys from its guardian and drink its power like a spring. Tonight we begin, and when we end we shall be powerful like no other coven in the United States. Gather round, my dears. This won't be easy." 

She stopped. She counted. They were eight. 

Well, that wouldn't do. The ritual needed to be done with a magical number of people: thirteen, nine, seven. They had been thirteen but lost three to the moonsinger, and one to the mongrel when they captured him. It was still a good number, nine, until Lorena had died. 

"I'm afraid we have a problem." 

They all looked among themselves, wondering what. Sabrina realized immediately, and surprisingly, the boy they had picked up on their way out of Seattle. He immediately approached her, eyes bloodshot, athame in hand. 

"Ma'am, it will be a great honor to give my blood to you so you can perform this ritual."

"Andrew, do you understand what you are saying?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"But Andrew! You joined because you wanted a family? Because you wanted to survive?"

Melinda looked at her daughter. Obviously she hadn't seen the way Lorena and Andrew had grown close together. Even if they were not lovers, they were at least brothers. He had already lost too much. Besides, they needed to reduce their numbers. Him abandoning the coven would not be enough. 

And they could use the power. 

So she grabbed the knife and plunged it in his heart. He saw the life abandon his eyes while she was murmuring a prayer for his soul. 

Hopefully Lorena could see him and use him as a guide. 

She ordered to prep the body and gather the blood. They would use him, his sacrifice not in vain. 

It was always about power.


	2. The Wolf Adrift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fuck it, Isaac, will you shut up? You are scaring the neighbors."

The wolf howled again, calling for his pack, to try and help him. He knew his Alpha was in danger, the cry of the leader rattling inside his bones, tugging his heart like it was tied with barbed wire. He needed to get out of the cage, to go after Selene's Daughter and then together help the Alpha, but its blue shine and dark dust were set in place, and no matter how hard he clawed and struck and hit the barrier all he got was pain and anger cursing through his flesh. He howled again, surely any other member of the pack - The Crossroad's Fool, The Queen of Ghosts, The Mother of the Woods, The White Knight - could hear his plea.

"Fuck it, Isaac, will you shut up? You are scaring the neighbors."

The wolf knew that voice, and he didn't trust it. It belonged to the boy who had attempted to bring down the Alpha, the boy who would not die. He snarled at it, warning him not to come any closer. 

"Don't you snarl at me, I'm trying to - what the hell? What happened here?" The wolf bared its teeth, threatening not to come. The boy ignored him, having seen something in the woods. Maybe he could smell the stench as well. "They poisoned the woods? How?" The wolf saw the boy walk around, touching with his bare skin, tapping with the silver of his cane, trying to make sense of what the wolf didn't understand. "Someone attacked Mrs. McCall? Isaac, where's Scott? We need to tell him!" The wolf recognized his Alpha's name and growled and barked at the boy, how he dared to speak of his Alpha? "Wow, wow, you've gone feral? What? Why? Think of your anchor, Isaac - wait, you are trapped," the boy had finally caught up on the cage surrounding him, and then he looked at the trail again, knitting his brows together, "there was an attack, wasn't it? The windows crashing, it wasn't an accident. They attacked you. I'm assuming they got Allison," at the Daugther's name the wolf started whimpering, the stress of the situation getting to his nerves, "and they trapped you here. And now you've gone feral because of the stress. Fuck me." The wolf saw the boy take out his cellphone and call someone. Barely, he recognized the voice of the Singer reverberating in the air, "Danny! No, wait! Isaac's here - he's gone feral. I don't know! Something! What? WHAT? Well, I need something to work with here, I will not let a feral wolf free in the town! His anchor? I don't even know the guy that much, how the hell would I know what his anchor is? What part of _gone feral_ don't you get? He's more wolf than human right now! FINE, I'LL ASK HIM! Isaac!" The wolf looked at the boy again, wary of how his arm had extended the little black box towards him, "Who's your anchor?" The wolf didn't reply - just howled again. His anchors were both gone and both needed his help and he was still stuck within the barrier. "See? Feral, he's probably lost his anchor during the... shit, maybe it's Allison? Yes, I think they took Allison because her window is completely shattered - I think Isaac tried to run with her - no, I haven't seen her, I don't run with you, remember? Oh. Oh. Interesting. Anyways, not helping - I can't deal with a feral wolf here, particularly one that keeps howling like Isaac is right now - the neighbors will look, and they'd know there are no wolves in California. I'd let him run into the forest and become Mrs. McCall problem but something is wrong with the woods, they feel poisoned. No, I don't know what's going on. Derek? Who's that?" The wolf snapped at the boy as soon as he heard the name of his previous alpha, memories of violence and horror growling in the back of his throat, "wait a second, that name definitely means something to Isaac. Fine, give him my number, whatever, sing to the moon to make him human, just _do_ something for crying out loud!" The boy put his phone in his pocket and approached the barrier again, not taking his eyes from the wolf. "Isaac, I know you are in there. Think of something - of someone - to get you out to the surface again," the wolf growled at him and came as close as possible to barrier trying to bite him but all he got was a snap in blue, "OK, definitely not helping, I'm stepping back, bloody werewolves." The cellphone started ringing again and the wolf saw the boy picking it up, "Yeah? Who's this? Oh, Derek Hale, let me put you on speakerphone," the boy tapped at the contraption and suddenly his former's alpha voice was in the air.

"Isaac? Isaac, do you hear me?"

The wolf snarled at the sound of his former alpha.

"Yeah, he hears you. Not happy to do so, apparently."

"Isaac, I need you to listen to me - you need to find an anchor. You need to put the wolf under control."

The wolf was in control now, and he would be until he rescued his alpha.

"Isaac, I know what you're feeling, I am feeling it right now. Scott's calling, the howl of distress. I know all you want to do right now is go and destroy anything between you and Scott, but I need you to stop and think. What can you do right now? What help can you be?"

Anything. He can scratch and rip and maim and destroy with his claws and his teeth.

"They took Scott. You need to be more than a wolf in order to rescue him. You can't just barge into a witch's household. That's where they are more powerful. Isaac, I need you to think."

The wolf knew the beta was right. That he needed to collaborate with the human in order to save the Alpha. 

_Their_ Alpha.

Scott.

And Allison. 

The two of them. 

The ones who believed in him. 

Him with his goofy grin. 

Her with her assuring hand. 

Isaac took a deep breath and reigned the wolf in. He knew it was a temporary agreement - that if he took too long, the wolf would take over again and unleash himself on whatever was holding them, but they needed to _think_.

"Isaac?"

Isaac steadied his breathing. When he opened his eyes again he knew they were no longer golden brown.

"I'm good. I'm good."

"Isaac? What do you know?"

"They took Allison. They mentioned something about having Scott and Stiles too. They want to take the power of the Nemeton from them."

"They are connected to the Nemeton?"

"It seems so."

He heard Derek huff on the other side of the line. 

"We're at Logan right now, we should be departing in thirty minutes and landing in Hill Valley's local airport in five hours. We'll meet you there as soon as we can. Go to the others - the rest of the pack, regroup. And whatever you do, don't give in to the howl."

"How can you ask that? Have you felt it before?"

"Of course I have. And I'm feeling it for the second time in my life. Don't let it override you."

And Derek hung up. Alex started walking towards the circle.

"You good?"

"Yes. Thanks."

"Not my circus, not my monkeys - I only care for not attracting attention. I'm going to break the circle - step back." With a movement of his foot he broke the line of ash and Isaac felt the magic around him disappear. He could see the reluctance on Alex's eyes, trying to stay out of the business, but he could also see him fidgeting with his cane, like there was something bothering him."

"What?"

"What what?"

"You are fidgeting."

"Well, it's obvious something's going on."

"Go home, Alex, this is pack business."

"But if it's pack business then Danny will be involved."

"So?"

"I don't want anything happen to Danny."

"Why, what do you care?"

Alex just shrugged, like he didn't know the answer.

"The woods will protect him."

"The woods are corrupted right now. They did something to their Mother - if anything were to happen to Danny right now they wouldn't go help him."

"Well, come, then. But bear in mind that this is pack business and if you interfere _against_ us..."

"Scott will kill me, yada yada, blah blah blah. It seems that right now Scott needs his puppy ass to be rescued. Where are you going?"

The wolf wanted to go to Scott, but he needed to find the rest of his pack. 

"Scott's house."

"I'm assuming you're running."

"Yes."

"Alright, go. I'll meet you there."

Isaac was ready to run to the house he had learned to call home when he heard it. Clicks. Clippers. There was a gun - several guns - around him. 

"Shit. Duck!"

Alex dropped to his knees like he was doing the limbo dance while he just tried to get face down. The shots were heard everywhere and he could hear that someone got injured because of their movement.

"Crap - mountain ash doesn't protect against bullets. Run!" Isaac tried to stand up but a bullet got to his calf and stopped him right there, while another got to Alex's stomach and he started bleeding profusely. Before another shot was heard and he felt the puncture of the dart and his consciousness sleeping away Isaac recognized the lopsided jaw of Rafael McCall in a bulletproof vest and talking over a walkie-talkie.


	3. The Queen of Ghosts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, she had just sent a message. And she was sure they would get it as soon as Lorena reached her home.

She just kept holding Stiles' body. She knew it was only that now - a body. Not Stiles. Whatever made Stiles himself had been ripped out of his heart and was now in a piece of quartz in the hands of those witches. 

Well, she had just sent a message. And she was sure they would get it as soon as Lorena reached her home.

"Lydia?"

"Danny? Danny, are you alright?" She scampered towards him.

"Yeah, just a little lightheaded - I hit my head when she threw me away. You?"

"I'm alright."

"Lydia... what was that?"

"What was what?"

"Your wail. Your scream."

Lydia had reached him and now was fussing over him, trying to see if he was truly alright. But the question was made with _fear_ and she couldn't help but look away. 

"I - I cursed her. I felt it inside of me, the Banshee, and let her out. Let her cry for my pack. Let her - _me_ \- send them a message to those witches that dared to come after us. That we won't hold back."

"You - you cursed her? What do you - ?"

"She'll die, Danny. When she gets to them, she'll die."

Danny looked at her like he didn't recognize her. To be honest, she didn't recognize herself.

"We need to take Stiles somewhere. The hospital? She did say that he was in a vegetative state now."

"No. It would draw too much attention - it's a magically induced coma, and that tends to mess up electrical equipment. Besides, the FBI is still too nosy. Scott's? Maybe we can set up some sort of camp there and Mrs. McCall can be monitoring him while we try to do something. Lydia..."

"What, Danny?"

"Do you - do you realize what you just did?"

"I killed someone who decided to mess up with my pack, Danny."

"I'm sorry, it's just - the idea of killing someone..."

"No longer an idea, Danny - this is real."

"But this was on purpose? I mean - "

"She deserved it."

The boy looked at her nervously, and rubbed his face trying to hide it."

"I guess this is the kind of thing my family warned me against joining you, isn't it?"

Before Lydia could answer Stiles' phone started ringing in his pocket. She went back to him and took it out while trying not to notice that Stiles was not responding to anything at all. The caller id surprised her.

"Derek?"

"Lydia? Isn't this Stiles phone?"

"Derek, Stiles is... Stiles is..."

"Lydia, what's going on? I feel Scott's howling in distress all the way to Maine - what is it?"

This was it, she couldn't run away from it now - so she told him everything that was important at the moment. That they were under attack. That they had gotten Scott, and Stiles, and Allison. That she felt magic in the air perverting the woods. That she had just killed one of them. She let herself pour out while Danny got Stiles in a fireman carry and they both left the library. She didn't even realized she was crying until Finstock asked her what was wrong and she finally heard herself all broken. Danny had to answer his phone and he started yelling at Alex - until he mentioned something about Isaac and asked for her phone. A couple minutes later he hung up on both of them - Finstock had already set up Stiles' body in the backseat of Danny's car. 

"Isaac's gone feral."

"What?"

"They caught Allison and Alex found him trapped in a mountain ash circle. I gave Derek his number - maybe he can bring him back?"

"How do you know about Derek?"

"I knew of him - Stiles introduced him to me as his cousin Miguel. It was pretty obvious he was a werewolf and putting two and two together when he 'picked up' Erica after her bite, I knew he was the alpha who bit them. Also, the crappy leather outfits was a dead giveaway - is it a fetish for werewolves?"

"Beats me. So you think Derek can anchor Isaac?"

"He was his alpha once. I'm just hoping there's not too much bad blood between them. Coach, do you need a ride?"

"I need to know what's going on here!"

"Short version: a witch just sucked Stiles' soul and we're taking him to the McCalls since magical induced comas can affect hospital equipment. Scott and Allison were attacked as well and we are basically fucked because it turns out Peter Hale was working with them. Any questions?"

"Was?"

"I may have done something to him - I'm still not sure what I did, all I wanted was to prevent the spell poisoning the woods from reaching completion but I am pretty sure it ended up fucking him up or something. I'm OK with that." Danny's face was shocked again. "You don't know what he did to me, Danny. I'll - I'll tell you later."

"You don't need to, I believe you." He still looked away when he said that. 

"What do you intend to do?"

"Right now we need to regroup. We are going to the McCall's - it's basically where we can set base. The Sheriff and Mrs. McCall are already there."

"Wait, the Sheriff is part of the pack? He's human!"

"So is Stiles."

"Yes, but Stiles is already a third of the guardian of the Nemeton. Why didn't he use its power to defend himself?"

"Use it? He's been afraid of it ever since they got it. The three of them. They feel a darkness in their hearts!"

"Of course they do! It's what's lurking underneath the Nemeton that creates that Darkness! But they are still supposed to be able to use the magic of the Nemeton against it!"

"What?"

"Sweet Lord - I'm out. I am _not_ getting into this mess. Greenberg!"

Coach stomped his way towards his car. Greenberg muttered a 'Sorry, guys' as he was dissolving into smoke. Feeling hopeless they started the car, only to be interrupted by its Bluetooth connection.

'Call from Alexandros Karahalios.'

"What now."

Danny pushed the button on his driving wheel.

"...have no idea what's going on, do you, Agent McCall? I barely coaxed that werewolf out of a feral state and you drug him? He's gonna wake up a monster!" Danny swerved, Lydia looked at him trying to get him to not talk and they both heard Alex coughing up "And also, shooting me? Do you want me to call my lawyer again?"

"Shut up, Karahalios. I have enough here to build a case against you."

"Against me? Under what law, McCall? You know that I exist outside of it."

"Not if I build my case properly. You get here and wolves get feral? Moonsingers awake? You are not laying low and you are definitely up to something."

"We all are up to something. Your head is just so far up your ass you can't see the forest for the trees."

Lydia jumped when they heard the shot through the audio system. Then Alex's laugh came through weakly. 

"I know I can be a little shit, but come on, you are making this too easy!"

"Put both of them in the truck and take them to the station! We'll have to contain the wolf in a mountain ash circle pretty soon, and make sure Karahalios is completely shackled."

Alex laughed again. Lydia tried to ask Danny silently if he knew what was going on, but his pained and surprised expression were easy to translate. No.

"Sure, the station, where you'll have to let me call a lawyer and they'll ask you why you keep a teenager drugged up. You want answers, McCall? Go to your son's house."

"I am taking a feral werewolf into custody so he can't hurt those who are close to him, including my son. What does he have to do with this?"

"Everything."

"What do you mean?"

Alex didn't answer back, and a couple seconds later the call was off. 

"What's going on? Is it that when it rains, it pours?"

"And it's raining shit, apparently. You think it worked, his ruse?"

"To get him to Scott's? We can't do anything right now, we need to get there anyways. Does this mean McCall already knows?"

"As soon as we're done with this I'm hacking into the FBI and looking at his record - maybe he's a hunter in disguise."

"Just be careful - it is one thing to hack into a Wall Street company and a completely different one to hack into the FBI."

"I know what I'm doing."

"Well, that'll be later. Right now we need to survive the night."

Lydia turned to see Stiles' body. He still had his eyes opened, glassy look and opened mouth. At least he was breathing. 

Nothing had changed.


	4. The White Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scared, he step back. The body went back to rest. 
> 
> His own son was rejecting him.

John kept looking at her. He had put her in her bed, still in the blue dress and the wilted flowers, where she looked like an angel asleep, all peace and quiet. At least she had stopped convulsing, and now seemed to be resting. 

Of course it was his fault. The one night he wanted to go out with her and this had to happen. Of course he wasn't meant to have any more happiness than the one his son could provide. He should've just bucked up and never asked her out. She would've been fine if he hadn't. 

He had reached her liquor cabinet and taken the Jack Daniels out. He got a tumbler out and poured it all the way to the brim, and setting the bottle on the counter, he grabbed it, almost ready to give it a swig. 

For a moment he could swear he felt Claudia's hand on his, a caress to stop him from drinking his worries. 

It used to be a calming gesture of hers, to put her hand on top of his, a small rubbing motion to distract him. 

It only angered him more. He threw the tumbler to the wall where it shattered, amber liquid staining the wall, a howl of rage reverberating on his throat.   
He was useless, he was useless again like he had been six years ago when Claudia had withered away. 

"Sheriff! Help!"

Lydia had come through the door and he saw Danny Mahealani trying to carry his son's body through the door. He rushed to them but as soon as he was close to Stiles he started shaking and his breath got shallower.

"What? What's going on?"

"I don't know! It's the first time he's done something since Lorena took his soul out!"

"He's soulless? Stiles!"

His son kept reacting to him, _badly_ , the convulsions getting stronger and stronger the more he approached him. 

Scared, he step back. The body went back to rest. 

His own son was rejecting him. 

"Stiles! Stiles! Stiles, please..." His voice had broken down with each mention of his son's nickname, "Szczęsny!" The name only made Stiles jump on the couch where Danny had put him and nothing more.

The tears had blurred his sight so much he had to rub his face as he stepped back until he was stopped by the wall. He was so angry he immediately pulled his gun out when Rafael McCall rang the doorbell.

"What?"

Rafe put his hands up, evidently not looking a confrontation. The two agents behind him put their guns out, evidently looking at him like a threat. 

"John? What are you doing here?"

"None of your damned business. What do you want?"

"I... I was told that I could find some answers here. What do you know?"

"What do _you_ know?"

"I asked first, John."

"I don't give a fuck, Rafe."

"Oh, please, stop with the pissing contest, you two!" The van's door had swung open and Alexandros Karahalios stepped from it, leaning heavily on his cane. McCall's agents immediately pointed their guns at him, mouth slightly open. "What? You really thought handcuffs and a van were going to keep me in?" The boy scoffed, "I've lived for more than two millenia - I've seen every lock being born. I pick at them _for fun_. You should've shot me. But don't do it, please?" He raised his hands as both agents were poised to shoot. "I told you answers were going to be here, Agent McCall, but I was expecting the Mother of your son to give them, not the Sheriff." Karahalios looked at him very pointedly, like he was trying to tell him something, but he couldn't catch his drift. "Why don't you talk to each other? You may learn a thing or two from the other one, don't you think?"

"Cortes, Manning, take him!"

Karahalios rolled forward, avoiding most of the shots, while something dark came out of the preserve on John's right and slammed against McCall. Karahalios quickly knocked both agents down, while the form of Peter Hale locked Rafael McCall in a very uncomfortable position. 

"Isaac, get inside!"

Isaac came out of the van and ran towards the house. John stepped aside to let him in. So that's what Karahalios had been trying to tell him, that Isaac was there too?

"Agent McCall, my name is Peter Hale. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Let me go - you are injuring a Federal Agent and interfering with an ongoing investigation."

"Oh, I apologize" Hale basically dumped him into the floor while standing up, "I was merely wondering why you didn't come to me as soon as you arrived into Beacon Hills, since this territory has been managed by the Hales for the past eight centuries."

"You were no longer here when I got here."

"Not true, McCall, you were here when the Sheriff of our lovely community was kidnapped, and both my nephew and niece as well as I were here. And I didn't leave at all since then. So, why didn't you come? Do you know how many rules of hospitality did you breach by not doing so?"

"Please, tell him - I need to have more things to arm my lawyer." Alex's glee was scary. 

"What do I care about your rules?" McCall rubbed his shoulder angrily.

Peter just tutted at him. 

"Does the Department of Supernatural activity really fallen this much? I mean, I knew there were a lot of budget cuts in all the government agencies, but I would've never expected such an important office of the FBI to take such a hit."

"The FBI knows?" John couldn't help but feel like his life could've been much easier this year had this little bit of information been shared with him a lot earlier.

"Oh, yes, they do. However, they are mostly human, so seldom do they interfere in our affairs - when they become too noticeable, just like our darling Darach's killing spree. Usually the local enforcers would take care of such problems but since we were decimated by the Argents and then I had my... issues, well, we haven't been top notch. Else, why do you think there are so many cold cases in your station?" John couldn't help but look at him dirtily, having heard his enjoyment in all the trouble they had caused, in all his deputies that had died. Why was he alive? And what was this role of enforcement? Enforcement his ass. "However, I am afraid right now I am nothing but a spokesperson to the true enforcers, who are not available right now. As much as I loathed the idea of stepping down, so much it had costed me to step up, I am nothing but a soldier now." John looked at him, eyes closing to slits. He didn't believed him. Oddly, Karahalios' face made the same gesture. "And I'm afraid the enforcers are not available to convene with you McCall, so why don't you take your toy soldiers out of the fire and come back when we've dealt with this. Knight, if you please." John knew Peter was referring to him when he entered the house.

"I claim Sanctuary!" Karahalios yelled, running towards them both.

"On what grounds?" Peter looked up again.

"I was captured when one of the members of your pack was attacked. I claim no harm to the McCall pack."

"McCall pack?" Rafael looked at them with a new expression on his face, one that John barely remembered seeing. 

_Fear._

He granted it.

"I knew I liked you for a reason, Sir Knight."

He waited until Karahalios was inside, but before he could close the door, Rafael tried to come in. 

A golden hue tinted the air and the agent was thrown backwards until he landed on the van that they had used to capture Isaac and Karahalios. 

Smirking at the small victory, fully aware that it would come back to bite them in the ass, the Sheriff closed the door.


	5. The Dark Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A boy of sixteen and he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. A lamb in wolf's skin playing at Atlas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small mention of self harm

Cora was huddled in the white leather seat next to his. He could see it in her eyes, how she was fighting the instinct to wolf out and run. He just ruffled her hair, slowly, but he was trembling himself and he knew it was not doing too much good.

"I don't remember it from before, you know? Do you?"

He tried not to cry. He needed to be strong for her. He needed to be strong for them. 

"Yes. Yes, I do. Laura and I were out at Minnie's, after the basketball game, remember? I wanted to introduce her to my girlfriend, Kate."

"Kate... I remember her voice from you talking to her. I used to eavesdrop."

"I didn't want you guys to know."

"I remember hearing her laugh during the fire. I recognized her voice."

Derek's face darkened. Now it was her hand that reached to ruffle his hair.

"Hey, we've talked about this. It was not your fault."

"I..." He swallowed, "I know."

_I did not kill my family. Kate Argent did. But I did wrong Isaac, and Erica, and Boyd. And Scott._

"You... you should try to get some sleep. Try to fight the instinct to wolf out - we're still a good three hours from even _landing_."

"I don't think I could. It's too much."

"Do you want something to help you sleep?"

"No. I need to do it on my own, control it on my own. Could you...?"

"Of course." And he just let her encroach in his seat. The leather seats of the private jet were big enough for both of them to fit in if a bit awkwardly. He kept petting her until her heartbeat slowed down to a sweet beat. 

His now free hand closed into a fist, trying to create more pain to distract his bones from the rattling of the howl. He felt the claws ripping through and some blood dripped out. Cora's nose twitched, but she didn't wake up. 

He was just a boy. A boy he could not bring into his family, no matter how hard he tried. And now he was responsible for so much. A sanctuary he had only heard from Grandma Thea's tales, a source of power so dangerous Death itself had been one of its previous guardians. 

A boy of sixteen and he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. A lamb in wolf's skin playing at Atlas.

The world would destroy his back before he even thought of bending. 

He could feel his own claws ripping through his tendons. It had been his fault.

_No, it wasn't._

He could almost hear Laura's voice telling him that.

What would Laura do?

He had no idea, they had never encountered something like that when they were running from the Argents. Fucking Kate. 

What would mom do?

_Regroup. Assess. What is going on?_

Witches were after the Nemeton. Scott, Stiles and Allison were guardians to it. That's the price they paid for rescuing their parents when Jennifer. The witches needed to strip them from the guardianship. 

_How could they do that?_

Magic.

_What kind of magic?_

Dark magic. Blood magic. Sacrifices.

No, that was not the question.

The question was what were they going to do.

The claws came off. He started rubbing his sister again, trying to wake her up.

"Derek?"

"Cora, do you remember Grandma's stories?"

"Some...?" Her voice was sleepy, but he could feel her pulse rise up. 

"Do you remember the one about the old tree? The one she loved to tell us in Samhain?"

Cora blinked at him, trying to swat the sleep away.

"Once... once upon a time, a man... it was a man, right? A man was so poor he hadn't eaten in days stole a loaf of bread from the house of the richest man in the town, and ran away with it. He ran and ran until he was lost and sat down and went to have at it. But before he could break it, a man dressed in white robes walked up to him. 'I'm so hungry, young man, would you share your bread with me?' The man said no... why did he said no?"

"Because he believed the man to be God, and he asked to be selfish once." 

"Yeah, that's what Grandma used to say. So he took the bread and ran again, didn't he? And when he sat down again a rich man appeared. 'I'm so hungry, old man, would you let me buy a piece of your bread with me?' Again, he said no."

"He believed him to be the Devil and he made sure he could not meet his price."

"So he ran one more time, and he finally sat down in the shade of an old tree. Before he could eat, though, this time he heard the steps of someone coming up from a small cave that seemed to be right there, and soon enough a man his age had come up. The man was so thin and so pale even before he said anything he broke his bread in two and gave him half."

"He believed the man to be Death, and seeing his end near he realized he could only stall it."

"Derek, why am I going through this with you? You seem to remember the tale better than I do."

"Go on."

"Fine. Death took it and ate with him, and when they finished, instead of taking him, he gave him his blessing. He told him that from that moment on, he would be able to see when someone was about to die. He explained that those who died from the body, and those who died from the heart could always be saved. But those who died from the soul - they were forever gone, and they needed to be left alone."

"Body, mind, soul."

"Where are you getting at, Derek?"

"The man went back and he started saving people left and right, didn't he? Until it was too much it broke him, and Death came back to bring him, saying he had destroyed his own soul."

"Derek, you are rambling."

"No - it's an allegory. The man is the guardian of the Nemeton, the blessing the power he got from it but the responsibility of it what broke the guardian down. Death was the old guardian and what he did was to relinquish it to him. Each of the persons were the trials, and he responded accordingly: A selfless man who knows when to be selfish, a poor man who knows when to be proud, a cunning man who knows when to be simple."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Think about it: Scott is always selfless, trying to take responsibility of everyone else even when he shouldn't, and yet when his mother was in danger, he did whatever it took to help her the others be damned. Allison always underestimates her abilities until her family is on the line. Stiles may always be the one with the plan until it involves the pack, and then he's willing to do the most basic of the actions to rescue them. Self-sacrifice."

"And the abilities of the man? They haven't gained any..."

"Again, allegory - their roles. Scott must be the body, due to the werewolf abilities. Allison is the mind since she has so much knowledge from her hunting ways. Stiles is the soul because... he's Stiles."

"And..."

"They need to destroy the soul first. They need to destroy Stiles before they can destroy the other two."


	6. The Singer of the Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, he's still whoever he was before. But he's lost his agency." Alex looked crossed with the idea, like it was the most repulsive thing he could be saying at the moment. "Very few beings can accomplish that. Who did you make friends with, that they've sent their doll to keep the FBI away?"

Danny had watched the whole exchange from inside the house, Lydia's hand in his, aware of her fear of Peter Hale now shared among the two. When they left him in the Hale manor he was barely alive, and Lydia had only stopped his death. Had she healed him completely again?

Then Alex had to claim sanctuary and come in, and now he was scared of _him_ , so much different from the boyfriend he had once been. 

The lie he had made for him. 

At least, when the door closed Rafael McCall could not come in. A little magic was still going on in the house. 

"Hey..."

Alex did smile at him. Danny didn't smile back. 

"Isaac, what happened?"

"They took Allison, they trapped me in a mountain ash circle. Alex got me out when Derek called me, but then McCall shot us. Apparently they thought they only needed to cuff him, but he released us both before we got here. What do you guys know?"

"Derek is coming, they have all of them, and whenever the Sheriff comes close to Stiles he reacts badly."

"Sheriff..."

"Do something. Lydia, Danny, Isaac, please do something."

"We don't even know what's going on. We don't know what to do."

"Lorena said she suck his soul out, but his body would be fine - that he can be hooked up. You are the only one who got a reaction from him."

"Are we sure we can discuss this in front of them?" Danny was eyeing both Alex and Peter, who had retreated into a corner, head down and shoulders hunched, so unlike the man who had been just a couple of minutes ago. Alex put his hands up in the air, like he didn't care and sat next to Stiles, looking at him.

"Peter?" Isaac asked tentatively. "Peter?"

"He won't answer - he's a golem, a pet. I wonder who sent it here." Alex didn't look up.

"A golem? You mean not human? Well, not werewolf?"

"Oh, he's still whoever he was before. But he's lost his agency." Alex looked crossed with the idea, like it was the most repulsive thing he could be saying at the moment. "Very few beings can accomplish that. Who did you make friends with, that they've sent their doll to keep the FBI away?"

"Shut up, Alex. Peter!" The man didn't respond to Danny's shouts, neither when Isaac started yelling at him as well. He could feel Lydia backing down until the wall stopped her in her tracks. He turned to look at her, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, her face the very definition of fear.

"Peter."

As soon as she spoke the word, Peter walked towards her and at a respectable distance he knelt. Lydia trembled a bit, but then she raised her hand and stroked him. 

He _purred_.

"The fuck are you?"

Alex had uttered those words after looking up, seeing the way Peter behaved towards Lydia. However, the wolf immediately got his claws out, pushed him up against the wall and drew blood from his throat. 

"Apologize. Apologize!"

"Peter!" the man looked at her, eyes crystal blue - lighter than the standard wolf who had murdered, "Let him go!" He did, dropping him onto the floor, walking towards her again, head bowed down, like a chastised dog. Danny couldn't help but wonder what was going on. After a couple of throaty coughs, Alex got back up, and the punctures on his throat could be seen healing, slowly - unlike a wolf whose wounds usually healed pretty fast. 

"I thought you were a banshee?"

"That's what I am. That's what Jennifer Blake called me after I wailed."

"A banshee doesn't have this kind of power. Posession. Removal of agency. Stripping of will. You bound him to you!" His words were laced with vitriol and despise, his eyes crossed and his hands twitching with his cane. 

"He bound himself to me first. He bit me without my consent, fully aware of what I was. He raped my mind, took control over my body and used my whatever mojo I have to bring himself back from the dead. And yes, I didn't think - all that I knew is that Mrs. McCall was dying, the woods were in danger and if he died she would too. So I don't know what I did but it worked out just fine."

"Stupid little girl, you basically created a monster!"

"He was one to begin with!"

Alex was about to retort but Peter had taken to attack him again. Danny stepped onwards, trying to get in between, but the wolf growled at him - though he didn't attack him. 

"Apologize to my Queen!"

"Sure, go ahead, kill me! Make sure I'm out for a good forty eight hours and be completely useless to you!"

"Does that mean you want to help?" The Sheriff asked, concern written in his face. Isaac had took to stand besides him, ready to attack if necessary. Alex gave him a wicked smile, while Peter only held him in place. 

"For a price."

"Name it."

"A favor."

Danny looked at the Sheriff. He was the highest ranking member of the pack now. 

Wait a second, why was Danny thinking like that? He was not a member of the pack!

The Sheriff was mulling over the idea. Danny knew Mrs. McCall had already talked to him about never dwelling in favors, but it was true that someone like Alex could be really useful at the moment. 

"A small favor."

Alex's eyes diverted towards Lydia instead.

"Trust me, if you are what I think you are it'll be a small favor indeed."

"Deal." Everybody could hear the regret in the Sheriff's voice.

"Done, done and done. Now, if you could, please."

"Peter, let him go."

Peter obeyed again, but now instead of walking back towards his Queen, he stayed, his figure menacing Danny's ex-boyfriend. 

"Where's Mrs. McCall?" What Danny really wanted was to get as far from Alex as possible, but he needed to help somehow.

"Upstairs, in her room. She's not waking up either."

"Can you take me there?"

The Sheriff motioned him up and he followed, Isaac right behind him. Peter could protect Lydia from Alex if needed.

"What happened? What did the witches do?"

"They gave us a pie. Strawberry pie. Mel ate it but I remembered that once Lydia didn't want to eat their food and then she started coughing. It seems that it was poisoned."

"Blood magic. Remember all the bled people? They've been using their blood to do magic."

"Sabrina asked me if I had eaten one of their pies. Apparently they wanted to enslave me as well. They probably enslaved the whole town. Would explain why no one was helping me at the restaurant."

"Did she do anything else? A chant? A ritual?"

"I, I don't know, I didn't see her - I was in a date, remember?"

"Yeah, sorry, it's just... if she was only poisoned, then we may only need to flush it out."

"Ipecac?"

"No, that actually doesn't work with magical poisons. But... please, Mrs. McCall, have some tortillas in your fridge, please."

"What?"

Danny rushed downstairs straight to the kitchen. The Sheriff kept asking him what he wanted to do.

"Activated charcoal is used in naturopathic remedies due to its high degree of absorbance. What most people don't know is that it also works wonders with magical poisons. I don't expect Mrs. McCall to have activated charcoal since she's a nurse and not a naturopath, but my family knows a couple of quick DIY's - and I am a horrible human being right now for following prejudices but thank the heavens they have actual corn tortillas in this house!" Danny took a package out of the house fridge and coated a tortilla heavily in oil. He put it in a cast iron pan and grabbed a torch lighter and set it on fire. "Technically any organic matter is formed of carbon chains, but you don't know what other elements and in what proportions they are present. Corn tortillas are fantastic for this since they are mostly polysaccharides from corn, fat from the process used to manufacture it and oddly, iron, which also acts as a good counteracting agent to celtic magic, but it's mostly harmless and an actual requirement of the human diet in small doses." The whole thing had turned into black ash and he put it in a small bowl where he crushed it as much as he could, "If we can manage to get some ash into her body it might help us flush the poison out", and then poured water on it and formed a suspension. Stilinski followed him back up and helped him give it to Mrs. McCall. 

"Is this safe?" Isaac was looking at the Mother, biting his thumb. 

"It's not medically sound advice, but it won't kill her. After all, ashes have been used as teeth whitener before and people didn't die from it. Much."

Suddenly, Mel started convulsing again, but this time she started vomiting as well. The flowers in her hair immediately looked in bloom again and a robin and a magpie - _his_ magpie - landed on the windowsill.

"Why am I vomiting on my bedsheets?"

"Mel!" The Sheriff went and hugged her, which meant he would have strawberry and blood on his suit. Apparently, he didn't give a fuck about it. He went and kissed her but stopped, like he didn't know if she wanted to - she kissed him and he followed her suit. 

"Well, this is not what I had in mind for our first date to finish. What's going on?"

"The witches are attacking. They have our children."

"What?"


	7. The Mother of the Woods

"They have my son? They have my son!?"

Her robin started chirping angrily at nothing in particular. The magpie had flown to Danny's shoulder and started cawing at her anger.

'Mother, forgive us.'

'We tried.'

'We failed you.'

Melissa stopped. Breathe in, breathe out.

"Mel?"

"The woods, they are afraid I'm angry at them. I'm not - it was not their fault."

'We are magic, we are power, we are yours. We should've been able to prevent this.'

"Where are they?"

"We don't know."

"What has happened while I was out?"

Each of her witnesses gave her their account: Isaac regarding Allison, Danny regarding Stiles and John regarding their date, bringing her home - and how whatever magic Stiles had performed had slowed down the curse until Danny had fed her burnt tortillas. She did look at John worriedly when he mentioned that downstairs an immortal being named Alexandros Karahalios had traded a favor from the pack for his help with the situation, but there was not much she could do about it. 

"First of all, Danny, thank you so much for helping me. If you ever need..."

"No, Mrs. McCall. My help was freely given. It's the least I could do for showing the same kindness to me."

"At least let me assure you that whatever favor he asks won't include you."

The robin chirped at her again. 

"What?"

'We cannot feel them, Mother. The King. The Fool. The Daughter.'

'But we can feel the War Bringer coming back to your porch.'

"Rafael is coming back, and he's bringing grief."

She thought to the woods, to let her know as soon as Derek approached Beacon Hills. If possible, they were to guide him and Cora to her house immediately.

'We understand, Mother.'

She immediately went downstairs - John insisted in helping her, and she couldn't help but grasp at the little happiness it gave him to do that.

When they reached the lower floor an odd picture was waiting for her. Lydia and Karahalios were looking at Stiles' body - she knew Stiles was not there, her own magic told her - while Peter paced around Lydia, like a caged dog. She immediately saw what John had said of him being a golem now - his mere _existence_ was tied to Lydia, and she couldn't help but think it had been all his fault. 

"Mother, an honor to see you again."

"Karahalios. I see you decided to help."

"It's not like I can do much, actually. These witches know their craft. They completely removed the soul from the body. It has no will to live anymore, it'll just exist until the soul is back into it or until it dies."

"Can we just care for him like a vegetative state person?"

"Would suffice, but do you have the equipment? I'd rather see the soul reinstated as soon as possible - I've heard tales of bodies rejecting them after a while."

"Heard tales?"

"Seen cases, actually."

She saw the boy - was he a boy, if he'd never have the chance to be a man? - smile a sad smile. She still wondered of his intentions.

"Well, we'll do what we can. If this is all the help you can provide it would be better if you leave us."

"No." He looked at Danny while answering her. "I'd rather stay. I did offer all my help, and this is definitely not even an iota of what I can do."

"You said yourself you were crap at magic." John looked at him warily.

"Oh, definitely. But I pack twenty five hundred years of knowledge in my head. And knowledge is power."

"You just want to be protected." Danny was looking at the boy now, anger in his eyes. She only needed to be a mother to see he was still grieving from the bumps that had happened in their relationship. "You were granted asylum and you want to keep it."

Alex's smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Oh, Danny, you caught me."

"Stop you two. Can someone explain me why is Peter acting like a dog?"

Peter looked at her and smiled. 

"My, Melissa, I didn't know you had certain... tastes."

"Gross."

"Peter, shut up." As soon as Lydia spoke he went quiet.

"Because that's what he is." Apparently Karahalios was not fond of the idea. "He's nothing but _her_ pet."

"Lydia?"

"I don't know how I did it, but it seems to be true. He obeys me."

"Not only does he obey you, he'll be able to anticipate your every whim and do it."

"What?"

"Why do you think he showed up as the Hale enforcer, when the Hales have been wiped out for the past six years?"

"You knew about the Hales?"

"You really didn't think I'd walk into this town and not research it first, now, do you? Of course I found out about them. Largest werewolf family in the West Coast of the United States, and Guardians and Advisors to the Werewolf Community of the Americas. If it weren't because I tend to avoid supernatural gatherings I would've definitely heard of them sooner. Wiped out by a single move of the Argent family, those who hunt the hunters." He chuckled. "Liars."

"You... you've been hunted before?"

"Of course. Do you really think no one would notice I don't die? No matter how low in the society do I hide myself, someone always finds out."

"Okay, everyone, stop. Stay here." She walked through the door and before Rafael McCall could even get his hand up to knock it she opened it. "Hello Rafael."

"Mel?"

"Will you please tell your goons to stop setting up outside my house? Unless you want me to chase them out?"

"Mel, what is going on? Why am I coming to your home to find you house a werewolf, and why did Stilisnki want to shoot me when I was here a bit ago?"

"Goons off."

"Mel, I'm a FBI Agent who was threatened, I'm pretty sure you understand..."

She didn't have time for this bullshit.

Crows cawed, squirrels rattled, spiders came out of all the crooks from the trees and in less than a minute, all the agents except Rafael were chased out of the surroundings by animals that reacted to their presence. Rafael whipped his gun out and pointed it at her face. She knew mountain ash didn't protect against bullets, but she would not back down. 

"Who are you and what've you done to my wife?"

"Your wife? Rafael, we broke up and got a divorce a while ago, remember? When you couldn't take how much I was bringing Scott down? When you fought with teeth and claws to pry him away from me?" Rafael's hand started to waver slightly, like the accusation was piercing through his soul. "And for who I am, Rafael, my name is Melissa McCall and these woods call me Mother." 

The first time she had said it, in front of the Mahealanis, it had been doubtful, mostly the woods speaking through her, to assess her power to them. Now, she spoke them proudly, making sure Rafael would know the implications of messing with her right now. 

Secret projects her ass, so he had been involved with the supernatural since forever? 

"Mother? Does that make you the enforcer now? Did you kill the Hales?"

"If you think this woman would stoop so low as to create a massive genocide, I'm afraid you don't know her at all, McCall," both Peter and John were behind her now, flanking her as guards - and Peter's tone dripped with sarcasm and rejection. "That crime was performed by Kate Argent, and it did set the region free to find a new enforcer. She has just been approved, Melissa, because she's the mother of the Alpha of the region."

"Scott? Scott is an alpha? My son is a murderer?" Each question came out with increased rage. Melissa rose her hand, so neither of the men behind her would answer that question.

"If you think that, then begone. You are not welcome here."

"I'm part of the FBI, Mel, and I will investigate this. What is going on?"

"Your son has been captured because witches wish to strip him of his powers. As the enforcer, the Mother and _his_ Mother, I'm dealing with it. We don't need you, we don't want you, we don't welcome you."

She could feel the magic of the woods itching to attack. She knew it wasn't wise.

"If this battle that you are having brings more strife to Beacon Hills, I will step in, Melissa. Why isn't the Sheriff at the Station? Why would none of the deputies there answer my summons?"

"Because they've been bewitched. The whole town has." John answered.

"Like I said, we are dealing with it."

"Let me help. Let me do something."

"You did earlier today and only made it worse."

"I was capturing a werewolf that could've hurt you! You were housing a monster!"

Melissa could feel Isaac recoil at the insult. 

"A monster, you call him? A son, because he has been a brother to Scott. A fantastic second. A sweet child of mine. Those are the words I call him."

"You are taking him in? Do you even - no, of course you understand, you would not be the enforcer if you didn't. Fine. Fine! I call for a claim of court RIGHT NOW!"

"No."

"You can't deny me court, Melissa, or has none of your pets told you that?"

"I am not denying it, I am delaying it. Like I said, I have better things to do right now. Begone, Rafael McCall, until I have settled my business, or these woods will chase you out themselves."

A cacophony of sounds came from behind her house, birds, mammals, insects, all warning the FBI to stop their intrusion. Rafael spat at her feet - the worst insult he could do. Peter immediately got his claws out and John pulled out his gun, but McCall merely walked away, ordering through the radio. When he was gone, she finally let her breath out, all signs of bravado leaving with it.

"Mel, you were fantastic."

"Sheriff, please, would you mind hiding your 'enthusiasm'? We're in a crisis right here." Although Peter's smile was wide and predatory, like a proud psychopath looking at his apprentice. 

"Where is Chris?" She hadn't seen the hunter. Apparently, nobody had thought of him at all.

"I don't know. I..." they went back inside, John calling Chris Argent on his cellphone, "He's not picking up."

"Sheriff, did you say they gave you a pie?"

"Yes, why?"

"Because there was a pie at the Argent's. It smelled sickeningly sweet. And the strength of its smell kept increasing with time."

"A cursed pie." Karahalios immediately identified it. "Full of blood. That's how they got him. How did they manage to get so many people?"

"They opened a pastry store."

"Go figure, always the simplest trick of the book."

"What can we do?"

"We wait." Mel spoke again, and everybody listened. She looked at Peter. "They are coming."


	8. The Little Girl under the Pelt

They landed in Hill Valley's airport, a small strip of asphalt where private jets could land for an exorbitant fee. She still didn't understand much about money, having had it all of her life - even when she was in the hospital everything would be provided for - but several thousand dollars sounded excessive. 

As soon as her feet touched the ground, even if it was covered with dull grey, she felt it. 

_Power_.

Real power, the power she used to feel when her family had been alive. Not even when she had found Derek had she felt it this way.

"Derek?"

"Hush. Listen."

She perked her attention and in a moment, she could feel it. A song, a song she had forgotten, even if it wasn't the same one. Even if it was a new melody, a new play. 

"Lydia had said that they had attacked Mrs. McCall. If they sing it means they managed to help her."

"That's good, isn't it?"

"The priority is still Scott, Stiles and Allison. But at least we won't have another burden to worry about."

"You definitely have trouble looking at the positive side, don't you?"

"It's kind of hard when your bones want you to run to your alpha."

He was shutting in again. She regretted saying that.

"Mr. Hale? Miss Hale? We have collected your car from the storage address you gave us, here are your keys." Cora turned to see a black sleek Camaro waiting for them in the runway. She gaped. "You can follow the signs to get into the road and from there you can easily access Hill Valley or go all the way to Beacon Hills. Anything else we can help you with?"

"Have all charges been taken care of?"

"Without a problem."

"Then no. Thank you."

Derek marched forward. Cora wanted to believe for a moment that _that_ was not their car, but Derek beeped the alarm and it answered back. 

"You have a Camaro? Why the fuck were you driving a Soccer Mom Toyota when I was here?"

"I put it in storage? And it's not mine, it's Laura's."

"You inherited it. And why store it?"

"Because it stopped smelling like her." She could hear the pain in his voice, trying not to break.

Cora opened the door and got in the passenger seat. 

Well, the lack of Laura's smell had been a lie.

Or maybe not, since Derek was looking at the dashboard with eyes wide open.

"Maybe is a present from the woods. This is still part of the territory. Maybe they remembered her smell and gifted it to the car."

"How the fuck does a piece of land do that, Cora?"

"How the fuck do we turn into halfling beasts whenever we want to?" Derek shrugged, apparently satisfied with the answer.

They got off. Derek was definitely not obeying the speed limit, but it seemed that there were no cops - and if there were, they were not seeing them. 

The closer they were getting to Beacon Hills, the louder could she hear the song, and the fiercest the howl felt in her bones. Her claws itched to scratch, her fangs itched to rip, but she knew she couldn't help. Just like she knew she couldn't help that blasted night. 

"Do you smell that?"

"Sweetness." It invaded her nose, and it was _not_ pleasant.

"Decay. Magic. They must have gotten hold of the whole town."

"How?"

"I don't know."

"Derek, slow down. If what you say is true they may have the deputies - the woods can't protect us deep in the city. Where are going?"

"Our Alpha's house."

They managed to get there without a hitch, though she could smell the presence of people who had been chased out by animals. Derek parked and before they got off, the door opened and Melissa McCall was at it. Her brother immediately walked up the steps to her, knelt in front of her and bared his throat, head tilted to the side. She walked right beside him, staying in the steps so she would be lower than him.

"Mother. Derek and Cora Hale, lost members of the McCall pack, answering the summons of our Alpha. We apologize for the lateness, and await your punishment."

"Derek and Cora Hale. Welcome home."

Her mother had mentioned a word once, when she was explaining how some of their abilities worked. She didn't understand the word, it sounded too big for a little girl. _Psychosomatic_. In the brain. Just like a wolf understood when his alpha growled at them, yipped at them or roughhoused them at play, a werewolf needed to hear the words from his Alpha in order to acquiesce their power. No, not heard - there had been mute werewolves that had reached alpha status all over history - but definitely _understood_. Just like she had understood that Mrs. McCall was welcoming them back into the fold, and even if they had identified themselves as members of the McCall pack it hadn't taken in until she had said so - because she was the highest ranking member of their pack. Welcoming them _home_.

And that feeling, that thing she had been missing for almost half her life was there again. _Family. Pack. Belonging_. That moment she understood that they could've remained in Maine or run in the opposite direction and at some point would the howling fade and they would've turned into omegas, but safe and sound. Now the howling rattled her bones a thousand times stronger but the price was too little compared to what she had recovered.

And with it the woods changed their tune. What had been a song of lament and despair was now a cry of _war_.

Mrs. McCall motioned for Derek to stand up and immediately hugged him, and he could see his shoulders tense and relax - as if he were waiting his punishment for being away. As soon as she was done with him Mrs. McCall hugged her too, and it felt so much like his mom's that for a second she wanted it to never end. 

But they had business to do.

"Peter? What happened to you?"

The old werewolf looked at Derek with a sight of half-contempt, half-resignation, and looked at Lydia with some sort of adoration. She shrugged but looked at Cora's uncle with reticence. Cora could feel a difference in his Uncle's smell, but she couldn't pinpoint the cause. It was nothing she had encountered before.  
Derek went to Isaac and the room tensed for a moment. The gangly boy immediately hunched and retreated, still afraid of his former alpha. 

"Isaac. I need to apologize to you. No matter how much in trouble I was, I never should have done that. Never. Drive you away using your own fears. I know I don't deserve your trust, or your forgiveness. All I ask right now is for you to obey either our Alpha, or the highest ranking member of the pack, which is not me. And the opportunity to let me proof to you that I understand what I did, and that I understand it was wrong." Her brother raised his hand slowly, making sure Isaac could see it all the time. After a couple heartbeats Isaac grabbed it and shook it, but still looked at Derek with nervousness.

"Who are you?" Cora suddenly realized there were two boys she didn't know: a tall muscly one, who reeked of moonshine, and a skinny wiry one, who reeked of age.

"Daniel Mahealani. I'm under Mrs. McCall protection and I help her."

"I'm Derek, by the way, not Stiles' cousin. You smell like pack." Derek said to him without a hitch.

"I know you're not... Wait, what? Mrs. McCall?"

"I... I don't know - I thought Scott had to welcome him into the pack or something? I assured him he had my protection, but he wasn't bound to the pack."

"He's not _bound_ , that would make him a servant and I wouldn't take Scott as an alpha had he done that. He _is_ pack. Same as Stiles, as the Sheriff, as yourself Mrs. McCall."

"Melissa."

"Sorry."

"But... I don't want to be bound! I don't want to be a servant!"

"And you are not. You have the same ranking as the Sheriff, at least, and that's pretty high. Don't you feel the howl in your bones."

Danny looked down. A very low 'yes' could be heard. Lydia gasped, but nodded in understanding. 

"So are we going to waste time discussing pack dynamics? I thought you were supposed to be here to help." The wiry boy had an affected voice, like he was not amused at the scene unfolding in front of him. 

"And who are you? You stink of old age."

"You can call me Alexandros."

"Alexandros Karahalios." Danny called his full name in spite, and the boy looked back at Danny like he had given away a secret. 

Then she remembered.

"The bird of prey?"

"You've heard of me." If he had sound smug before, now he sounded wary. 

"Every born wolf has heard of the bird of prey before - the little grandfather. He who would not die." Derek answered, reciting the lines from Grandma Thea's story. "The one soul cursed by Lycaeon himself to never die, bound to wander the world until it can find the one who can kill him. Never to be trusted, never to be underestimated."

"Nice to know the old tales I build for myself still work. Keeps the chance of people meeting me at a wonderful low."

"Cursed by Lycaeon himself?" Lydia sounded honestly curious. 

"Did you think these scars were only for show?"

"What are you doing here? What do you want?" Derek growled.

"I was attracted by a very fascinating display of power that happened some months ago. A _True Alpha's rise_ ," the voice had changed at the title, a note of admiration creeping through, "and as for what I want, I already got it." His eyes diverted towards the Sheriff and Cora couldn't help but shiver, like he did have some sort of power over the pack.

_Never deal with old folk in the crossroads, for they are demons that'll coax favors out of you_.

"In exchange for your knowledge, Karahalios, and so far you've given us nothing."

"That is true, and I apologize, but I honestly don't know what we are dealing with. We only have a body without a soul and a town bewitched by pastries."

"They took Stiles soul?" Derek's voice sounded high and broken, like a whimper. Stilinski nodded and tried to touch his son, but he convulsed, and the Sheriff walked back in defeat. 

"He's been doing that whenever I come close."

"It's actually a good sign, Sheriff," Karahalios explained, "it means the soul and the body are still connected."

"Well that's good to know." Sheriff Stilinski, the illustration that follows "Sarcasm" in the dictionary.

"They want to destroy the soul. It means they haven't done it yet." Derek intersected.

"Destroy his soul? That would be... No, really? Something so crude?"

"It's the tale we were told. A guardian of the sanctum. A body, a mind, a soul."

"What happened when they took Scott?"

"We don't know, nobody was there..." Danny was interrupted by Mrs. McCall, tears rolling down her cheek.

"The witches used Chris to hunt him, and at some point some sort of spell forced him to attack himself. The woods witnessed it. My baby, my son..." Isaac and Lydia and Danny immediately went to her and she hugged them looking for comfort, and the Sheriff grabbed at her shoulder. 

"The body, I presume. That leaves Allison for the mind, but that has to be destroyed over time." 

"Maybe they poisoned her too? There definitely was one of their pies at their apartment."

"There was definitely a shadow following her yesterday, when we were at school. I told Scott about it - that's why he had you going with her, Isaac."

"And poison would not do, since that destroys the body, not the mind." Karahalios was reeling - so that's what two thousand years of knowledge looked like when they were working on a single problem?

"The math problem." Danny whispered. "Remember? Her father had given her an old notebook with Math problems from her mom's old notes - only was not solved."

"One that wasn't there before, you mean?"

"Chris has been acting weird for a long time now, even rejecting the pack. It would make sense if they got him first somehow and then used him to give him the problem." The Sheriff mentioned.

"So you are saying that the notebook was cursed?"

"Fermat's curse," Karahalios looked like he had solved a puzzle, "it's an old curse that begins as a problem, but it is an unsolvable one, and it will entrap your mind until it destroys itself trying to solve it."

"So what, they are using their own roles as guardians to destroy them? What are they doing to my son?"

"They are forcing them to prove themselves not worthy of the Nemeton. That way stripping them of its power will be very simple, instead of a complicated ritual that would be dangerous to them as well. And as to what they are doing to your son, I presume that since he reacts to _you_ , they are using his memories of you to cause him distress. To make him feel unworthy. Uncapable of running with wolves.

"They are using me against my _own son_?" John Stilinski may have not been a wolf but Cora could not help but associate the sound that came from his throat with a _howl_. "I want them dead. Dead! I don't care if Rafael comes after me - I'll kill them myself!"

"John, please, calm down. Stiles is my son, too, and Scott and Allison are in trouble as well. We need to do this wisely." Melissa McCall grabbed the Sheriff and started calming him. The moniker of Mother definitely applied to her now, since she was capable of bringing him down and yet she was spewing the same vitriol as he was. "We won't let them go free, but we need to do this the right way."

"What do you suggest?"

"We need to reach Stiles' soul and guide it back to his body. They need to destroy him first, otherwise the ritual won't work, so as much as I'd like to free Scott as soon as possible, freeing him first is our best bet." Derek piped in, but Cora could tell he was not so sure about it.

"Go fetch it from the witches?" Isaac wondered.

"We may not need to do that. Who's the conduit?" 

Everybody looked at Karahalios like he had spoken in Sanskrit.

"The what?" Stilinski asked, definitely the one with less werewolf culture in the room, so he didn't feel so bad, like she did, for asking.

"The conduit. One of the very few things known about True Alpha's packs is that they are so close, so intertwined, their powers can be shared among wolves in times of distress. You did that once, when I fought you - that's how I realized what Scott was. He was drawing power from all of you - that's how he was able to defeat me. I don't know if I would've stood a better chance against him alone since he has plenty of power on his own, but when you started to do it my chances of winning dropped to zero. Usually there is one member that is particularly adept at it - and they can act like a conduit so even if there are pack members that are not compatible the sharing can be done without any problems."

"Isaac."

"What, Lydia?"

"No - it's you. You are the conduit. You used my powers to summon Camden in Halloween - and you were the first to listen to the woods, since they felt your distress. You borrowed from both me and Mrs. McCall."

"No, I didn't - I was scared, I was afraid of my dad, he was trying to kill me and I couldn't defend myself..."

"Isaac!" Derek growled, and Isaac looked back at him fearfully. Derek breathed. "Just because you did it on instinct it doesn't mean you didn't do it. It sounds like you did. What were you thinking then?"

"Just - just asking for help. And yes, the woods told me to think of someone, and I thought first of Scott and they said he was off limits - he was with the Hales..."

"He was with who? We were not here back then?" Cora asked.

"The ghosts of your family. Long story, other time. Isaac, continue." Lydia was frantic, trying to listen to the whole story. Cora knew she had the same expression as her brother - completely dumbfounded.

"So I thought of Camden and they told me to keep thinking of him, that _she_ could bring him. You." He looked at Lydia. "They were talking about you because you are the only one who can summon the dead. And when Scott came back and I thought of helping my brother fight dad he suddenly had the abilities of a werewolf."

"You were giving him power, yours and maybe even Scott's. No, definitely Scott's - it seems that a True Alpha can claim a ghost to be a temporary member of his pack."

"Are you kidding me?" Isaac was completely flabbergasted.

"What about when we fought?"

"I just knew you couldn't win, _shouldn't_ win. And then suddenly Scott was a better wolf, and then Allison held me and suddenly I knew Scott would think of different strategies, and then Stiles and I knew Scott would be imaginative, and when Lydia touched Stiles I knew no matter what Scott wouldn't lose."

"Isn't that so?" The Karahalios kid looked at Lydia quickly, but returned to Isaac in less than a blink.

"So he's the conduit. How can we use that in our favor?" Cora growled at Karahalios, keeping his mind in check.

"You should be able to reach at Stiles' soul. After all, that's how the sharing happens - because you can touch everybody's souls."

"I don't wanna be the conduit - I can't be the conduit!"

"Isaac. Son." Isaac raised his eyes at Melissa McCall, afraid, but she wasn't angry or bitter, she was proud. "Look at me." She walked to him and held his hands in hers. "I know you are afraid. We all are. We don't know what you can do, and we don't even know if it's what we want. But it's worth a try, don't you think?" Isaac gulped, but nodded.

Cora knew in that moment why Derek had bitten him. Because that kid had courage. All he needed was a guiding hand. 

Isaac knelt next to Stiles and grabbed his hand. He closed his eyes, looking like a sleeping angel when doing so, if in a really awkward position. He kept at it for some minutes, but nothing happened.

"I can't. I know what you mean, it's like I know where all of you are - Lydia, Derek, Cora, the Sheriff, even you Mrs., sorry, Melissa," he sweeped his head like scanning the room, "even Danny. And yes, I can see where Stiles is, but it's not letting me in. I can't reach him. It's dark around him, and there's cold water around... too cold..." Isaac started shivering, and then trembling, "too cold..."

"Isaac, stop!" Derek came forward and yanked him away, before something else happened. Stiles' body hadn't reacted well to the attempt - it was trembling for a good five minutes before it could settle down again.

"They would know about it." Peter spoke in a low voice, like he had been chastised. "They did have some information on True Alpha's packs. I did tell them what Scott was. They are defending themselves against it."

"Which means it is our way in. We just need to be able to overcome their defense. And now I need time to think." Karahalios stood up and started pacing around the room.

Cora felt at loss. She had just recovered that feeling of family, and now it was falling to pieces due to the stress they were all feeling. They couldn't even think clearly, since Scott's howl was too distracting. 

"Why? Why are they doing this?" The Sheriff's question sounded hollow, like all the will to live had abandoned him.

"The Nemeton. It is a sanctuary. A source of so much power wars were fought for it. You can say this is one."

"Why us? Why them?"

"They offered themselves. Remember Jennifer? She needed to sacrifice three guardians to fulfill her offerings and achieve those powers herself. They sacrificed themselves, and the Nemeton took them as guardians. That meant that they would protect it from now on."

"But Jennifer had all these abilities. What had they earned but problems?"

"They are rejecting them." Peter spoke looking at Lydia, who nodded in approval. "After all, their only example of them has been Jennifer, and they were warned of the Darkness that would surround them."

"Darkness that has already seeped through, if I may add." Karahalios was looking at all of them, particularly at Lydia. Since everybody ignored him he went back to his pacing.

The Sheriff started singing a lullaby - Hush little baby - and he was surprisingly on key. However, Stiles' body started convulsing again, uncapable of interacting with his father in any way. Stilinski roared in anger. 

"You used to sing to him?" Cora went to him and started petting his arm in an attempt to calm him.

"No. Yes. My wife used to, when she was alive. She was a singer, and she taught me how not to caterwaul my way through some tunes. After she died, I tried to do it too, to prevent the nightmares, you know? It worked for a while, but then I got too much into the whiskey and then he was singing for me. It was our own unspoken agreement - if we were singing it was because we needed the other back." He rubbed his face trying to hide away the tears, but she stopped him. They were among family, they didn't have to hide their feelings. "And now they've taken that away from me. Even that." He started crying even more. Melissa walked up to them and rubbed his shoulder.

"It was with Claude's lyrics?" Stilinski nodded. "Correct me if I get them wrong, alright?" He nodded again, and she started singing spectacularly off-key the same lyrics he had sung a minute ago.

Nothing happened.

Lydia started to hum the tune as well.

Nothing.

Mahealani - the moon singer - got a tambourine and started adding the rattle to the melody.

Moonlight started to shine through the house, even if it was so close to dawn. 

She felt it inside. The woods had changed their battle cry and now were singing alongside their Mother. Whose voice had suddenly become a perfect mezzo-soprano.

Cora looked at Derek and they both started howling to the same song. Inexplicably, it was easy to do so - even if howling was supposed to be one long sound and not a melody to be followed.

"Dear lord."

She didn't stop howling, she didn't stop to look at Karahalios but she understood where he was coming from. There was power in their song.

"Sheriff, think of it. Think of the song. Think of how it is your agreement between each other. Think of it while Isaac wills you into Stiles. Isaac, will him - will the song into Stiles. Do not try to reach Stiles' soul this time - let the song reach him."

"Why?"

"We need him to listen."

She still had her eyes closed, but her pack was visible in her mind. She saw Isaac kneel next to Stiles again, and the Sheriff stand beside him, hands on his shoulders. Mrs. McCall touched his back with the same voice she kept singing, and Cora suddenly felt all the pack linked. And all the links going to Isaac. 

Isaac grabbed Stiles hand and closed his eyes.

Stiles' body jumped into an impossible arch, a horrible scream coming out of its mouth.


	9. The Crossroad's Fool

Stiles was cold. His feet were soaked in the icy water that seemed to be everywhere, emanating from the old stump in the middle of the room, still, foul, _cold_. Like the streams that ran in Beacon Hills. Like the rain that fell down the day his mother died.

"There you are. My boy. _My failure_. My miserable pile of secrets. Are you happy now? Are you happy, you big nuisance?"

His father was drunk. He could smell it in the stench emanating from him - even if he was so far away. Far enough that he threw the glass at him and it hurt when it crashed in his forehead, liquor trickling down his body. Taking the accusations of his old man.

No. This wasn't his father. This had to be a dream. This had to be a nightmare. This had to be something. His father was not like this, his father loved him and had turned into an overprotective monster when they told him about werewolves and magic and all the shit that was going in Beacon Hills and that he would never hurt him. 

"You know that's not true, my son. I want to hurt you. I've wanted to hurt you every single moment of my life after I found you in the hospital. After you killed her. With your hyperactivity, your nagging, your need to believe in fairies and witches and vampires and werewolves and now look! You've made them real. You've made all of this real and it's nothing but a nightmare! You brought all this into my town, and now I'd be lying if I said I don't want to just kill you so I could get rid of all of it! Get rid of you!"

And Stiles knew it was the truth. 

"See, I may have loved you a while ago. When you were our little boy, and your mother would cook for the two of us and we would sit in the kitchen table and hear her sing while she cooked. When we were a big happy family. But then you killed her, and you became a nuisance, a liability too big for me to handle. Adderall refills month after month. Psychiatrist visits every three months. Bills upon bills upon expenses that made no sense because _you_ don't make sense and you have been getting the best of me and now you've made it all worse! Witches! Werewolves! Lizards the size of humans and foxes that turn into girls and women that scream in the graveyard and they are all eating Beacon Hills and I can't do anything to protect my people and it's all because of you! You and your need for attention and your need to go looking out for trouble and your need to poke at dead bodies with sticks and look! You turned Scott into a werewolf, and you brought darkness into this town when you couldn't let go of me and now you've killed your friends, and your mother, and honest to God I wish I could just _kill you_!"

Stiles wanted to run, wanted to run away from his father and all the truths he was hearing from his voice, slurred and hoarse from the whiskey he had been drinking. He knew it was his fault. That's why he stayed up at night, popping Adderall like candy, doing more research, trying to prevent whatever horrors were coming because of their stupid sacrifice to destroy their lives. That's why he had gone every day after school to the pet clinic and listened to Deaton drone on and on about nature and the importance of circles and seasons and the rise and fall of the sun and the moon and never actually teaching him any magic that could be of use. That's why he had insisted his father would teach him how to shoot a gun, and made sure Chris Argent was stocking his father with wolfsbane bullets and teaching him how to make his own. 

"It wasn't enough. It is not enough. Even if I wanted your help, it would have never been enough."

The water kept getting colder the more he stepped back from his father - and the Nemeton. As were the words coming out from his father's mouth. His failures. His inability to stay in topic. His incapability to keep his dad safe. His idiocy trying to feed him well. All failures. All wrongs. All the reasons Stiles couldn't do anything but back down, make himself small, cover himself with his arms so his father would not see him cry, would not hear him sob, would not tell him anything more. But it continued. For minutes. For hours. For days. For years. The problems, the mistakes, the failures. The broken promises and the lies. And for the longest of times Stiles Stilinski found himself crying, because he was a problem, a mistake, a failure. A broken promise and a lie. And there's nothing he could do about it. 

Nothing. 

He was nothing. 

No one. 

How... how could he dare to think himself a guardian? How had he ever thought he could rescue anybody? His father? He couldn't even get himself up!

He was a puddle of tears and a pile of secrets, incapable of doing nothing. Of taking nothing. Of wanting nothing. Of being nothing. Just a broken toy the big bad world had decided it had enough to play with. 

Maybe. Maybe it was a good idea to give up. Maybe it was all that he needed to do and his father would stop yelling at him. Maybe if he just let it go it would go back to normal. 

Let go of what? Let go of who?

He... he tried to remember of a time when everything was normal. What was normal? Had there ever been a normal? All he could remember were his father's disappointments. His own failures. His mother dying in a hospital bed, looking at him like the little piece of shit he had always been. 

He wanted to remember her one last time. One last time when she had tucked him to bed and sung to him. 

How did the words go? They were special words she sang for him. 

And yet, he couldn't remember them.

"Hush little baby, don't you cry."

He was crying. Crying because he wanted to remember so it so badly that he could almost hear her sing it. Maybe it was easy this way, to just let the tune sing him to sleep, and let someone else, something else, take over his duties.

Maybe that way he could sleep without nightmares.

"Momma's gonna buy you a pumpkin pie."

He hated pumpkin pie and his mother would always make fun faces at him because of it, because she loved it and then she had stopped eating it just so he wouldn't retch in front of her because he was five and a little rascal who thought the world was his and his mother had to avow to his every command. Not even after her death he could bring himself to bring to eat the pie, now a sweet reminder of his own stupidity. 

"Hush little baby, don't say a word."

What could he say? What could he do? He had nothing. He never had anything. His mother? Gone. His father? Hated him. His friends? Turned into monsters because of him. His grades? A construct of drugs and caffeine. His sanity? Slipping through the cracks of the lies he had built. 

"Momma's gonna buy you a mockingbird."

His mother used to love mockingbirds, because they would sing with her. They were the heralds of good news, she would say, and they would always have a little bird feeder where he could see the little white things come over and get some sugary water, and he would be fascinated by the flurry of their wings and he would ask her why they were so small and their song so sweet and she would bring him books on birds and science and spark his innate curiosity instead of pushing it back. 

He wanted to see her again. He was ready to give up - to die, as long as it was in her arms. 

"And if that mocking bird won't sing, then momma's gonna buy you a diamond ring."

Her diamond ring he remembered, her engagement ring. Once he asked about it, why would she have such a beautiful little thing in her finger and his father won't, if they loved each other so much why did she have something he didn't. She explained how it was a token of his love, a way for him to tell her that he would never abandon her, no matter how dire the situation would become. And that little diamond ring would always be a light for her to follow when she was alone. 

Stiles wanted a light like that. He couldn't see anything in the darkness that surrounded him. 

"And if that diamond ring turns brass, remember that you'll have your momma's smile."

He wanted it. He wanted it so hard right now, but he couldn't remember. Her smile. The smile that was a light to him, a sun, a moon, a collection of pearls strung together. Happiness. He wanted so much to believe the song, to believe he was actually hearing her sing, to believe he could feel the moonlight caressing his body and his pack's howling in the background and Lydia's humming guiding him to the grave. He wanted to see his mother one last time before he died. He wanted to open his eyes and see. 

He opened his eyes, and believed. 

Claudia Stilinski was cradling him, holding him close to her heart. Pity, was the name of the sculpture. A mother who wouldn't give up on her son. Even if he was already dead. 

"Mom? Mom, is it you?"

She brushed her hand against his hair, against his face, the same way she used to do when he was about to go to sleep.

"My little monkey. My little stile."

It had to be an illusion. It all had to be an illusion. 

"It is an illusion, Stiles. It all is." 

"Why? Why am I seeing this? Why am I hearing him?"

"Because they want to break you." 

"They are doing it. They are winning." 

"I know." 

"You came to help me?"

"No. I didn't come. I've always been here, in your heart. You've always had me in your heart. I've never left you."

"You died."

"Yes. It's the balance. An old girl dies. A young man lives. It was fair."

"Mom? Why am I always screwing up? Why am I always doing stupid things? Is it because you left me? Is it because I am alone?"

"But are you, really? Am I not here, your mother? Can't you hear your pack, singing for you?"

Mrs. McCall. He could hear Mrs. McCall's voice singing for him. He didn't know she could sing. He could hear Lydia humming for him, a song that beckoned him to go to her. He could feel the moonlight, a gift from Danny, caressing his body. He could hear the howls of the wolves, a symphony of the night. And he could hear him, yelling his failures and mistakes over and over and over and over but it was distorted, like a voice could be heard under it, a different voice. 

"Stiles. Do you really think that's your father? Do you really think that's what he thinks of you?

"It's all true."

"Is it?"

"I am a failure."

"A failure who helped a lone wolf turn into a True Alpha?"

"I brought darkness into this town!"

"Darkness that you've fought one creature after the other."

"I couldn't let dad go, if I had everything would've been better!"

"A dark priestess would've reached powers that would've wiped out our little town."

"Why don't you just let me give up?"

"Because you are my son. And my son is not a coward that backs into a corner. My son is not a child that stays down after tripping. My son stands up, my son raises to the challenge, my son understands that everything has a price to be paid, and pays it gladly if it means he can help. Because my husband has never belittled you, has never seen you like anything less than the marvelous thing you are, you who have seen the Darkness and taken it in and yet still are the man I am proud to call my son, that I am proud to share with the Mother of the Woods, that I am proud to see at the right of the Risen King. Because you are you, Stiles, and no one else."

Stiles breathed heavily, letting her words sink in. He could feel his own tears mix with the ones that came falling from her eyes, all over his face. 

"I don't want to give up, Mom."

"Then don't."

"It's not that easy."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to let the Darkness win. I feel it every single day. I don't want to let it take over me."

"And what do you think of when you feel it."

"Scott, dad. You."

"I am here," she touched his heart, and he felt the weight come off it. Like he always had when he thought of her, "and I'll always bring light into your Darkness. Light that you paid for when you gave up your life. Light that was given back to you when you accepted your part of the bargain."

"To be a guardian."

"One of three. Three that make one."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Whatever you want, my little stile. If you want my opinion," her smile turned feral, the same way it always became when they were to prank his dad. Maybe a bit more, "kick his ass."

And that's when he knew this was her mother, and that bastard over there was not his dad. Because his father had never been an angry drunk. A sad and depressed one, yes. One who needed to be sung lullabies in the night in order to go to sleep, definitely. But one that even at his lowest had always taken care of Stiles. Because he had gotten all the mischief from her, the ideas out of the box, the will to bend the rules without breaking them.   
He was standing on top of the Nemeton stump, his feet bare, touching the bark, soaking up the energy that came from it. 

His power. 

"You want this? You want this power? You attacked me and my friends for this?" He raised his arms in a pater noster, water falling from his open hands. 

"Stupid little boy - you think you've won? You think you've done anything? We are going to destroy you, and this power will be ours."

The howls could be heard everywhere. The moonlight bounced from the water below, brightness encompassing the field where they were standing. The lullaby was now a battle cry. _His_ battle cry. 

"Fine. _Take it_." And Stiles grabbed the head of the man that tried to look like John Stilinski, and the man suddenly was another one, and he screamed as the magic of the Nemeton infused through him, a magic that rejected him and killed him for not being worthy of its ranks. 

Stiles screamed as well, and kept screaming until all he could hear was the song that his pack had sung for him.


	10. Selene's Daughter

Why couldn't she solve the problem?

All the others she had. She had compared the answers to those her mother had left and they were accurate. And she understood why would it be relaxing, to not kept thinking of witches and sacrifices and blood magic and werewolves and monsters hiding in the closet until she could solve the problem. She could assign a number to the question. 

Simple. Really. 

That's what her father had said, wasn't it? Something simple.

Then why was she losing her mind over it?

Oddly enough, she knew she was losing her mind over it. Maybe it was the unkempt state of her hair. No, that wasn't it - Lydia would fuss about that, not her. Maybe that she could not stop muttering about it? After all, she hadn't stopped talking about it - very quietly, very hushedly - for days now. No sleep, no food, no rest - she had to solve it first. It had priority over those mundane things. It was a _simple problem_.

A problem she should be able to face alone. No need for help. She would not call anyone for help. 

Not Lydia. Not Scott. Not even Danny who had offered. 

"Look at you. Useless, as usual. Waiting in the background. Waiting for someone else to jump first. Waiting for someone to jump at you and rescue you. Disney Princess. Stupid little Disney Princess."

It had been her voice saying that, but it wasn't her. She kept trying to solve the problem with words, because it helped her focus. 

"Help me, help me, help me help me help me wahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Pathetic little bitch."

She recoiled from her own voice. She fell backwards and the water started seeping through her clothes, sending shivers up her body. She tried to hide in her hair and her hands but she needed her hands to keep counting for the problem. Adding and substracting and multiplying and dividing the unknowns.

There she was, looking at her. Reproaching her. 

It was herself. 

But not the Allison who couldn't solve anything. Not the Allison that had let herself be duped by her own family. Not the Allison that always waited for Scott, or for Isaac, or for someone to come and sweep her up and help her. Not the Allison who waited in the lines. 

No, that was the Allison that was the pride of the Argent Family. Language extraordinaire. Archery expert. A hunter, through and through. 

She tried to think about it. How could there be two of them? Where were they that there could be two Allison Argents facing each other?

No - it was a distraction. A distraction to stop her from solving her problem. A simple problem. 

She needed to solve the problem.

Maybe she needed help. 

Could she ask herself for help?

"Help you? Darling, please, you disgust me. You are nothing but a pitiful schmuck who can't even solve a very simple math problem! You want my help? Pfft, I'd rather see you squirm."

And she was squirming, cold everywhere, the water numbing her limbs. She was failing, she couldn't handle the pressure of not being able to solve a single problem. 

She was weak. She had always been weak. 

She would never be able to survive on her own. 

"That's right. You can't do anything. You won't do anything. Why? What for? You are nothing. You depend on everyone else to come and save your pretty little ass and guess what? This time, they are not coming."

Who would come? Who would take so much pity on her that would come and rescue her?

"No one. Nobody. You are alone. And if you weren't as pathetic and pitiful as you are, you wouldn't need them. But guess what? All this you've been doing in the past year, all this 'Oh, I am a great archer and I will try to save you Scott' and all 'Yes I am a good hunter daddy' and the 'I am a girl with feelings Isaac' trip you've been having? Nothing but lies, lies that you tell yourself in order to keep moving in this world. Seriously, I don't understand how you haven't killed yourself. I mean, I am yourself and I can't stand you."

She could've done it a long time ago. 

No - she needed to solve the problem. 

No - she could not kill herself. Not without solving the problem. 

The problem that was making her pull her hair out. 

Because it was a simple problem. 

She couldn't give up. She wouldn't give up. 

She started again. 

"Oh, c'mon! Stop! You can't solve it! You are not good enough! Just give up and let us be done with it already!"

No. She may be weak, but she doesn't give up.

"Allison, if you can't solve a problem, stop. Step back, look at the wider field."

She took a step back and looked at the wider field.

The ghost of her mother had arrived with moonlight and drums and war cries and the chorus of a children's song.

"You have to approach it from a different angle. It's no use to repeat what you've done so far. Take a step back and look at it again."

Allison breathed heavily, letting her words sink in. 

The other Allison raged.

"Bitch, please. Like you ever cared about us."

And yet, Victoria Argent would only look at her, at the one that was down, cold, and wondering what was going on. With that odd expression in her sharp features that Allison had learned to associate with concern. 

"Come on Allison, we've done this before."

They had. When she was little and she couldn't do her math homework, her mom would come sit down with her to help her and maybe give her a cookie or two she had just baked. And the advice had always been pretty similar. 

Step back, look at the whole picture, start again. 

So she closed her eyes.

Stepped back. 

Looked at the whole picture. 

Started again. 

"There you are, backing out, waiting for someone to rescue you."

"I don't back out. I back _up_."

"Good, Allison. Now observe. Unemotionally, clinically. Think."

Something resembling herself in combat boots and a dark hoodie. Someone who looked like her mother bathed in moonlight. The first one could not be her - since she was herself, and the second one could not be who she looked like, for she was dead. 

It could only mean one thing. 

It was an illusion. It was all an illusion. 

She was either inside her own head or trapped in a spell. If the former, she needed to snap out of it. If the latter, she needed to break it. 

Her other self's face expression changed from contempt to anger. She moved, trying to reach the stump in between them. 

She would not let them do that.

She took a step forward. And another. 

And for each step she took her other self, the one that resembled everything she feared about herself, stepped back. 

The moonlight shone over the water. The song she could hear, the lullaby, was beckoning her. To go. To get out. To fight. The Beau Geste multiplying the number of wolves she could hear howling. Calling her home. 

Calling her to her pack. 

She stepped on the Nemeton, and she didn't feel cold anymore. Her trusted knives were at her hand, and the other Allison was there, spouting lies about not being done, about how they were going to destroy them. 

"Please, shut up."

And she trusted both knives into her other self's neck.


	11. The Risen King

He couldn't breathe. His throat was closing, the cold tightening his chest, his lungs making an effort to try and trap as much air as they could. He could feel his esophagus become a thin pipe, barely a hair wide, blocking the oxygen from reaching his insides.

He barely saw the burly figure of a lacrosse player running towards him, ready to tackle him down. Why? Were they playing? He didn't have his gear on. He tried to move aside but he was too weak, too short of breath, too distracted with his own thoughts to do anything. 

The guy slammed against him and threw him down. He could feel his bones cracking and blood coming out of his mouth. 

He didn't worry - he was a werewolf, right? He would heal.

He didn't. 

When he finally could look up, there was nobody there. 

As weak and powerless as he felt, a part of him knew that this was the work of the witches that had caught him. That it was just an illusion and he was wasting away in their basement, his own wolf attacking him, and waiting for his pack to come and rescue him. They should be able to hear his howl, right?

"Wow, McCall. Like usual, waiting for Stilinski to come pick you up, eh? Never capable of doing anything without your twin testicle, are you? I knew Finstock made a mistake when he named you co-captain."

He tried to get up, but the wheezing and the coughing wouldn't let him. He felt like he was trying to breathe through mud. 

"Tut, tut, McCall. I don't even know why I'm bothering with you."

He had honestly never loathed that voice before, not even when its affected cadence and egotistical accent would belong to a douche that made his high-school life hell, particularly after entering the lacrosse first line. But now? Now he hated the face and body of Jackson Whittemore because if the red eyes he was sporting were telling, he was there to be a better son, a better student, a better athlete, a better werewolf, a better alpha. 

"Yes, McCall. A better alpha. You can't even get up."

Jackson was fully decked in his lacrosse garb, while Scott barely had remnants of the clothes he had been wearing earlier. It was not real. It could not be real. Jackson was away in London and he was in Beacon Hills and had to get out of this nightmare so he could go and help his pack. 

His friends.

But it wasn't that the way it worked, was it? They were the ones helping him, always. 

"My point exactly, McCall. You are nobody. Nothing. Nada, without your friends. But in case you haven't noticed, your friends aren't with you anymore. I mean, why would they? Do you really think that Allison would stay with you after you were indirectly the cause of her mother's death? Or that Lydia would deign herself to talk to you? That Danny, _my best friend_ would actually consider you an equal? You, who are barely dirt beneath our shoes? Gods, McCall, you are stupid. So stupid I still can't fathom how you live.

"I... have... a pack..."

The words could barely come out. He couldn't even pronunce them properly.

"What was that? Did you say _pack_? A pack of what, exactly? I mean, I don't see any member of that pack here to help you, and I understood that in wolf dynamics a pack would sacrifice themselves for one of their members, particularly their alpha. Maybe a pack of lackeys that finally got fed up with you? But if it were, you would be ordering them around, to do your bidding like the bunch of mongrels they are, and you can't even order a dog to sit. A pack of owners? Yeah, that's more like it, with you as their fantastic dog! Because that's the only thing you can be, McCall - a dog. A sweet, dumb, idiotic dog. As a matter of fact, it is good that you are dying! Then I can take your place as their alpha! I can take your pack - _my_ pack - and lead them to places! Make ourselves known as the new Hales, those werewolves that were feared all throughout North America! Think about it, McCall. Think - what can you do that I cannot do better?"

Scott couldn't think of anything. He could barely think at all in between the wheezing and the coughing and his own lack of breath. He tried to think when he saved Deaton from the Darach, but that hadn't been him - that had been the Sheriff. When he stopped Jackson - no, that had been Lydia and her love for the guy in front of him. When Jennifer Blake almost killed Derek - and yet he wouldn't kill her, and it had been the Hale wolf who had brought her from the brink of madness. He even thought of Boyd and Erica and how they were dead because he was not capable of teaching them what little he knew about being a werewolf.   
He thought of Stiles, and how he kept dragging his best friend deeper and deeper into this whole mess. How instead of protecting him now he knew he was trying to exploit some sort of spark that was within himself, how instead of supporting him through having a girlfriend he was suspicious of her, how instead of being the best friend he deserved Scott had been nothing but a source of grief and trouble. How Stiles was always responsible for Scott, and Scott was never there for Stiles. 

It was true that everyone else was better than him. At everything. He didn't have a role in there. Not anymore. 

Had he ever?

He coughed and wheezed and tried to get up. Tried to fight it. But he couldn't. No matter how much effort he put into it. He would always be cast down. 

Just like he had always been. 

He tried to roar his frustration out, but no sound came out of his closed throat. He was better than this - he knew it! He had managed to survive, damn it! He had turned into a True Alpha, and it's not like he'd done so by twiddling his thumbs!

"I don't know, McCall. What did you actually do? I mean, besides raping Derek Hale into biting the Argent geezer. Oh, I'm sure you talked about it, didn't you? About how you stripped the poor man of agency and made decisions for him? Just like the Alpha pack when they forced him to kill Boyd? Yeah, Alpha attitude there, McCall. Really fine example of leadership."

It was true. He hadn't thought about it that way. Derek had never said anything. 

"Isn't he part of your pack? Isn't an Alpha supposed to anticipate the needs of his own? Really, you are lousy at this. Why do you even keep trying?"

He didn't know.

He was just there, trying to breath, trying to understand what he had done. Nothing. He couldn't do anything. He depended on everything and everyone. He was nothing, no one, a mere shadow. A mere spectre. How could he have thought he would be a guardian? He was but a child. If someone else took over, everything would be easier. 

He wanted to cry. 

He wanted to howl. 

He did. 

A pitch full of sorrow and despair. The cry of a lone wolf dying alone. 

Like all those times he had howled in that basement. Scratching at himself. Had it been true? Had he really been there at all?

An omega. Like he had always been. A howl full of emptiness. A howl to never be answered. 

Except someone did.

First came the high, almost whimpering howl that could only be associated with Isaac. Then came two howls he had never heard before and yet he knew who they belonged to. And together they harmonized. They multiplied. And they were howling for him. A song. A song he remembered from a long time ago, when he used to wait for Stiles outside the hospital room's door, where Ms. S had spent her last days. And he felt the moonlight bathing him. Caressing him. Giving him strength. Giving him room to breathe. 

"Just give up and die, McCall - you can't -"

Whatever he couldn't, Scott wouldn't know because Jackson could not finish his phrase. The fist of Derek Hale in his mouth prevented him from speaking any further. 

"Scott. Get up."

"Derek."

"You can do it. You can fight this."

"But he's right. I've always depended on everyone else. I even went ahead and used you. I've never been able to do anything on my own. I am not worthy of being an alpha."

"Don't be stupid. An alpha is not an alpha because he takes charge of everything - nobody can do that. An alpha is an alpha because he leads, because he looks after, because he _cares_. You are an alpha because you brought us together. We are a pack because of you, not in spite of you."

"Keep lying to him, Hale. I'm pretty sure what he needs right now is a dose of poisoned honey to keep him up and then bring him crashing down."

"Well, at least he's better than you. You could never be anything but a whiny little brat that needed to prove himself he wasn't wetting his bed even late in his teenage years."

Jackson - no, that thing - was about to say something else and Derek grabbed it by the throat and threw it away. 

"Scott, this has to be you. I can't do anything if you don't believe in yourself. No matter what I say or what I do, it's only you who can bring himself out of this mess."

"Can you forgive me, for what I did?"

"It's not me who you should apologize - I'm just a construct of your brain fighting them. Want to be a proper alpha? Apologize to the real me out there. Get up. Fight back. Be the werewolf you are meant to be."

"If you are not real then nothing is."

"Wrong. The howls? The song? The moonlight? That's your pack. That's us, telling you that we are coming here to get you and you better get your ass off the floor by the time we get here."

Scott stood up and closed his eyes. He had always known where every member of his pack was after he had claimed his position as an alpha. Even Derek and Cora, all the way to Maine. And now he could tell that all of them - even Danny - were together, and that they were reaching out to him. To them - Allison and Stiles, who were right next to him. Who were trapped, just like him. 

Not Allison. Not Stiles.

He would never let anything happen to them. To his pack. 

He opened his eyes crimson red and he was standing on top of the stump that was the Nemeton. He could see whatever that was impersonating Jackson back away in fear. 

He howled. A different pitch this time. A howl of war. 

He howled and howled and howled and his howl drowned the screams of the man whose blood was coming out of his ears. And when he lowered his head again he was standing in a room where symbols had been drawn on the floor. And he could see Allison killing another of the witches at his left and he could see a blinding light and a falling sorcerer at his right and he knew where he was and what was happening. 

"You've destroyed our spells. You've overcome our curses. How?"

Scott could only smile. A thin, feral smile.

After all, he had just summoned his pack. 

And he could feel them coming.


	12. Epilogue

Amanda Thripp was never too fond of walks after dark. Not that she feared anything - her clairvoyancy powers gave her enough leeway to know what streets to avoid and what thugs may be hiding in the shadows - but she really missed the light of the sun. She was, after all, a sun oriented witch and felt a bit outside her element whenever she was out in the dark. 

But she knew she had to go, she had to sneak a peek at whatever was going on. The whole town was a magical disturbance and there was only one thing that could arrange that magical disturbance - either by cause, or because. 

Besides, it would break dawn in any moment now. They were not that far up north that they would miss daylight for so long. 

The only thing that bothered her was that she would be cranky when she opened her bookstore. Well, she could tell almost the whole town was possessed - those poor unfortunate souls that had bought the pastries that reeked of blood - so maybe she could not open and nobody would notice. 

She had to give it to that family of witches, they had nerve. To try and control a whole town just to strip some kids of the guardianship of the Sanctum. It was true that those kids had power - the Banshee she had already seen in person, and there was something off about her that screamed power, too much power, and even without having met him she could tell the True Alpha was more powerful than any werewolf she had encountered before - but really, go all this way? They were children - they probably would've given it up easily. If they could have. 

She knew this Sanctum was particularly powerful due to the ley and telluric lines running under the ground, particularly the San Andreas fault feeding it so much power. After all, the hills that surrounded it were only the proof of what was running under it. 

It was a shame. She was definitely looking to settle down after wandering for so long in the East Coast. But witches were selfish creatures, and it was probable that those who were after the Sanctum would try and exercise so much control over it they would drive others away. Even those who just wanted to brush at its power.

She had reached the clearing where the Nemeton stood, a stump of an old oak that emanated energy. She knew she wouldn't be the only one, but she was surprised to see a fae there, with a human woman, and also the school's Coach, the poor man who wanted so hard to believe he was just a low level psychic, when he alone had created a revenant that had lived for too long the town welcomed it into its fold. 

She was definitely not expecting to see one of her old boyfriends there. Not because she didn't see him through her powers, but because she would've never expected him to be on the West Coast. He was too stuffy. As a matter of fact, she had broken up with him because he had forgotten how to smile. 

"Aurelius?"

"Amanda. What a delight to see you."

"Not really. What are you doing here?"

"One of my clients moved here. I had to come attend some businesses. As for right now, well, I guess I am doing the same thing as you."

"Couldn't help but take a peek, could you?"

"I don't even understand it. It's humming to everyone. Like it was to keep every single magical creature here."

"It is a Sanctum. It wants to protect us."

"Even if the cage has bars of gold, it's still a cage."

"And I thought I was the wild free spirit."

The shadow of a ghost smile appeared on his face. She thought she had loved him, or maybe she did, but that had been a long time ago. 

"A client of yours, huh? A big honcho?"

"Client confidentiality, Amanda. But you can say yes, a big honcho. He even has already held court with the Alpha."

"Really? I'm still waiting for the court to actually assemble. The way everything looks, it probably won't happen. Not under those children."

"You could've gone to the Mother of the Woods."

"And knock her door and be all like, 'Excuse me, I need to tell you I am going to live here'? She's a nurse, she would've had me committed."

"She hears voices in her head. I am pretty sure she would understand."

"Shut up. So you've met him, the Alpha?"

"Yes."

"How is he?"

"Interesting. There's something in him that I don't recognize."

"Maybe the whole True Alpha thing."

"No. That is painted on his face, he can't hide it even if he tried. Wherever he'll go he'll be known for what he is. But something inside. A blessing, I think."

"A blessing? Is he fae?"

"No... the Banshee is fae - so much it scares me. I couldn't even look at her when I walked by her side without feeling my spine turn into ice. No, it's a blessing I've never seen before."

"That's odd - you are an empath, you can see all the blessings everyone has."

"But seldom does anyone have any."

"True."

They stood there, a bit awkwardly. Yeah, they were having a nice conversation but he was still cold hearted - the only thing he could do to prevent his empathy from taking over his senses, he had said several times - and she still didn't know what had happened to him after their break up.

"So... how you doing?"

"I'm fine, Amanda. Thanks for asking. You?"

"Fine, fine. I mean, I'm still a poor book seller, but at least here I have customers."

"A clairvoyant who doesn't use her powers to get rich. That's rich in itself."

"Oh, shush. You more than anyone are familiar with karma."

He chuckled. She wished she had been able to get him out of his shell back when they both lived in New York.

Dawn broke while they were all just looking at the stump. Not even with her powers she knew what they were expecting. Maybe a sign of changing hands? That the witches had taken control of the Sanctum? Or maybe a sign that the kids had defeated them? Nah - as much as she had liked talking to the Banshee girl, she wasn't sure they'd be able to defeat them witches. They were committed to what they were doing. So many murders, and even under the FBI's Deparment of the Supernatural's nose. They were _bold_.

"Does anyone hear that?" Finstock spoke to the audience, cocking his head. She tried to direct her ears. 

A howl. The howl of an omega? They've been hearing that for a while now - that's how she knew the alpha had been captured.

No - the howl of an alpha, calling to war. 

And then, she felt an energy wave coming from the tree itself. Light seemed to emanate from it, a wall of gold and green and blue and red and white. A beam that reached the heavens. A whiteness that blinded her for a moment. 

When she was able to open her eyes again, instead of a stump with some moss around it, a huge oak stood in its place, its branches so long they reached the end of the clearing. A trunk so thick a botanist would say it was hundreds of years old. A sanctuary so powerful, she could taste the power in her mouth. 

"They've done it," Finstock said in a low voice, "they've finally claimed it."

He was right. Instead of a hum the Sanctum was singing now. 

"May the gods above have mercy on their souls."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Season Finale Next!


End file.
